'Well, he would be worrying if he wasn't,' said Glenda.
She wanted some time to herself with her feet up. It hadn't just been a long day, it had been a long and deep one as well. She needed some time for things to settle.
'And we'll take a chair, how about that?'
'They're very expensive!'
'Well, you're only young once, that's what I say.'
'I never heard you say that before.'
Several troll chairs were waiting outside the university. They were expensive at fivepence for the ride, but the seats in panniers round the carrier's neck were much more comfy than the slats on the buses. Of course, it was posh, and curtains twitched and lips pursed. That was the strange thing about the street: if you were born there, people didn't like it if you started not to fit in. Granny had called it 'getting ideas above your station'. It was letting the side up.
She opened Juliet's door for her because the girl always fumbled with the lock, and watched it shut.
Only then did she open her own front door, which was as patched and peeling as the other one. She'd hardly taken her coat off when there was a hammering on the weatherbeaten woodwork. She flung it open to find Mr Stollop, Juliet's father, one fist still raised and a little cloud of powdered paint flecks settling around him.
'Heard you come in, Glendy,' he said. 'What's this all about?'
His other huge hand rose, holding a crisp off-white envelope. You didn't see many of these in Dolly Sisters.
'It's called a letter,' said Glenda.
The man held it out imploringly and now she noticed the large letter V on the dreaded government stamp, guaranteed to spread fear and despondency among those with taxes yet to pay.
'It's his lordship writing to me!' said Mr Stollop in distress. 'Why'd he want to go and write to me? I haven't done nothing!'
'Have you thought about opening it?' said Glenda. 'That's generally how we find out what's in letters.'
There was another of those imploring looks. In Dolly Sisters reading and writing was soft indoor work that was best left to the women. Real work required broad backs, strong arms and calloused hands. Mr Stollop absolutely fitted the bill. He was captain of the Dollies and in one match had bitten an ear off three men. She sighed and took the letter from a hand which she noticed was slightly trembling and slit it open with her thumbnail.
'It says here, Mister Stollop,' she said, and the man winced. 'Yes. That would be you,' Glenda added.
'Is there anything about taxes or anything?' he said.
'Not that I can see. He writes that "I would greatly appreciate your company at a dinner I am proposing to hold at Unseen University at eight o'clock Wednesday evening to discuss the future of the famous game foot-the-ball. I will be pleased to welcome you as the captain of the Dolly Sisters team."'
'Why has he picked on me?' Stollop demanded.
'He says,' said Glenda, 'because you're the captain.'
'Yes, but why me?'
'Maybe he's invited all the team captains,' Glenda volunteered. 'You could send a lad round with a white scarf and check, couldn't you?'
'Yeah, but supposing it's just me,' said Stollop again, determined to plumb the horror to its depths.
Glenda had a bright idea. 'Well then, Mister Stollop, it would look like the captain of the Dolly Sisters is the only one important enough to discuss the future of football with the ruler himself.'
Stollop didn't square his shoulders because he wore them permanently squared, but with a muscular nudge he managed to achieve the effect of cubed. 'Hah, he's got that one right!' he roared.
Glenda sighed inwardly. The man was strong, but his muscles were melting into fat. She knew his knees hurt. She knew he got out of breath rather quickly these days and in the presence of something he couldn't bully, punch or kick, Mr Stollop was entirely at a loss. Down by his sides his hands flexed and unflexed themselves as they tried to do his thinking for him.
'What's this all about?'
'I don't know, Mister Stollop.'
He shifted his weight. 'Er, would it be about that Dimmer boy that got himself hurt today, d'you think?'